The Perils of Constancy
by bloodyromantic
Summary: Loyalty is a virtue, but not one without its challenges, as Ilosovic Stayne and a lady of the White Court are about to learn. Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton own these characters, except for Casiphia.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Trespassing**

_Art thou pale for weariness _

_Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,_

_Wandering companionless_

_Among the stars that have a different birth,_

_And ever changing, like a joyless eye_

_That finds no object worth its constancy?_

_~Percy Bysshe Shelley_

Years now she had been part of Mirana's retinue at Marmoreal. Years in which she had explored the castle from basement to battlement, watched the distant mountains reflect every hue of light and storm, wandered the grounds astride her white mare beneath the perfectly manicured trees. It was a beautiful place, no question, if a bit stark. And the other members of the retinue were somewhat the same, polite but distant, eloquent but lacking a bit of passion.

She had tried to learn cooking and spellcraft, but as the March Hare was prone to throwing sugar cubes (if she was lucky) and tureens (if she was not) at her head every time she went into the kitchens, that ambition didn't last long. Painting and music had become tiresome, and she had read every book of interest in the castle at least twice. In short, life in Marmoreal during time of exile had all become rather limiting, and Casiphia was in need of a diversion.

That was really the essence of the problem, wasn't it? Casiphia was bored. That was why she was doing something that could charitably be thought of as mad, making her way astride her horse, Quinn, through the vales and forests and gardens of Underland, stopping of course to exchange pleasantries with that cordial, unsettling cat with the evaporative tendencies, approaching--of all places--the Red Queen's castle. Through the mushroom forest she rode, through the dead trees that bordered the Red Queen's lands, and into the blasted plains of Saluzen Grum.

If she had been more clever, Casiphia thought, she would have thrown a drab-colored cloak over her riding habit. White brocade and satin were not just impractical, but visible for perhaps miles. At least she wasn't wearing her ringleted white court wig, she snickered to herself. Long brown hair was at least somewhat less striking from a distance.

And there was the Red Queen's castle, beautiful and imposing in the sunlight, with its white and red walls and battlements. Closer she rode, gazing in delight at its architecture. More intimidating was the squadron of Red Guards marching over the drawbridge and back into the castle, the voice of their leader ringing out through the motionless air.

What came over her then she was never able to articulate, save that the joy of a possible adventure suddenly overcame her. And here was an opportunity to see the castle grounds, which would certainly never happen in under normal circumstances, and avoid the moat with its bobbing heads (she shuddered at the thought).

Growing up in a castle had, among other things, taught her ways to sneak over a drawbridge without being caught. If one couldn't pass as part of the entourage entering (which Casiphia certainly could not), then avoiding entry into the castle grounds behind them was wise. Diverting from their ranks immediately would be the best plan of action.

So she tethered her horse to a stunted bush, in as much shade as she could find, and left her with her feed bag and a promise to return soon. Knowing the drawbridge would be raised quickly once the Guards had entered the courtyard, she sprinted across it with quiet steps, far enough back from the Guards so as not to attract their attention. She veered off the drawbridge and ducked immediately down beside the circling wall, and then stopped, heart pounding, to take note of her surroundings.

Where she crouched now was a cobbled courtyard, with a large kennel in the center and some topiary shrubs in planters scattered about. But there, beyond a hedge, was the Queen's garden. Casiphia was a creature of the White Court, and as such, could not resist growing things. The Queen's roses were famous for color and fragrance, and she wanted badly to see them for herself.

It was only a few yards to the hedge, and not difficult to squeeze through a gap in it, to reach the garden and its pointed cedars, the lush, manicured grass lawns, and rosebushes. She stopped to breathe in the scent of one particularly beautiful crimson rose, then reached to break it off its stem, when suddenly she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye of a tall figure in the near distance.

It was the forbidding, if somehow compelling, Ilosovic Stayne, Knave of Hearts and protector of the Queen. And this time it was clear he had seen her from the way he suddenly stood at attention and then began striding across the castle grounds. Stifling a squeak of fright, Casiphia gathered her skirts in her hand and began to run towards the gap in the wall--only to be stopped when a trailing rosebush bramble clutched at the hem of her gown and held her tight.

And then the Knave was upon her, and Casiphia's heart froze in her chest as she anticipated the trouble she must now be in. Only to hear in a mild tone, "Milady, might you require some assistance with that?" Casiphia looked around slowly, discovering that Stayne was a bit less intimidating when he was kneeling beside her, beginning the process of untangling her gown from the rose thorns.

"Er, thank you, milord," she mumbled, now meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry I was trespassing, I only--"

"I've seen you before, outside these walls," he said, now getting to his feet and forcing her to crane her neck upwards to see his face, despite the fact that she was taller than most women of Underland.

"Yes," she said simply, as there was no point in denying the obvious.

"And you would be?"

"Casiphia, from Mirana's retinue."

"You court danger, then, you realize," he said, and she nodded.

"Well, milady, as you've come this far, would you care to go somewhere where no one has preceded you?"

Casiphia wasn't certain she had heard him correctly (she would have been less surprised if he had shouted "Off with her head!"), but this wasn't an opportunity she could see herself denying. So she followed the Knave across the topiary-studded grounds and to the castle, gleaming white and red in the afternoon sun, and through a shadowed door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**Treasures**

_I have loved the stars too fondly_

_To be fearful of the night._

_~Sarah Williams_

"Don't speak and walk softly," Stayne cautioned Casiphia as they entered the castle. Much to her surprise, he gallantly offered her his arm, and led her through gray marble hallways, past soaring red pillars, at last down a stone-flagged hallway into parts of the castle that lay dusty and shadowed. The drawing of a key from his sleeve, the turning of a lock stiff with age, and they were inside a chamber that held centuries worth of art no longer in favor by the castle's mistress. The room was lit only by the sun streaming through a pair of water-streaked French doors, and there in the shadows were furniture and paintings and jewels the like of which Casiphia had never seen, even in her explorations of the palace at Marmoreal.

Stayne led her around the room, pointing out items he found to be of especial interest. As he spoke, Casiphia found herself distracted by his nearness in a way that both alarmed and delighted her. She commented on paintings and carved chairs, yes, but she also kept notice of his waves of dark hair and the line of his back beneath his cloak.

Eventually they had made their way around the chamber, and Stayne slid to the floor, leaning his back against a dusty, velvet-covered divan, taking Casiphia's hand to draw her down beside him.

"So here you are, in the enemy camp," he said.

"It would seem so. It is more beautiful here than I expected, from all that I have heard about this Court."

"How fares life in Marmoreal in these sad days?"

"In all honesty, it is as though we live under a shadow. There is a feeling that circumstances are going to continue to worsen until something unspeakable happens, and all we can do is wait. Our Queen is still kind, but wears an air of sadness and concern. And you--what is it that keeps you here? Do you love the power you hold? Is it loyalty to your Queen?"

"It is gratifying to indulge the, let us say, lesser angels of my nature. But mostly I serve the Queen because I love her. Or I did. I don't know. " He sighed and dropped his head back against the divan. "She wasn't always like this, you know. I've known her for many years, and she was always impulsive and demanding, but the sweeter side of her nature was more apparent. I think perhaps I stay in her employ because she needs one person near her that she can trust. Her courtiers are worthless in that regard, and her guards stay with her only from fear.

"Realize that the Queen is not quite as bad as she seems. She's not a prize, mind you, but there aren't nearly as many executions as one would suspect--her attention span is short, and she often forgets whom she's lost her temper at. The Guards secretly release most of her prisoners, and the Executioner spends most his time playing chess with the Cook, for what it's worth.

"The worst part is that I still know Underland would be better off in so many ways under the rule of her sister. Sometimes I think I'm ready to leave Iracebeth and throw my lot in with Mirana. And then I remember how many years I've known her and how close we once were, and I can't bring myself to abandon her."

Casiphia sighed. "I know Mirana worries about her sister. I've heard her ask how Iracebeth is faring, and I know she is concerned that some sort of growth in her head is causing her to behave irrationally. To be honest, I think she could be rather adorable if she were sweeter." She darted a look about the room. "Is it safe to be talking about this? Is it safe to be talking to you?"

"Milady, no one in this castle would dare to cross me, and believe me, I've borne all of this alone for too many years. Speaking of it now is a tremendous relief."

Feeling impetuous and suddenly brave, Casiphia put her hand upon Stayne's arm and turned him to face her. For a moment they looked into each other's eyes, his gaze dark and unreadable, hers gray and wondering. And then she pressed a quick kiss upon his lips and drew back to see his reaction.

Which was sudden and startling. He grasped both her wrists and pulled her to him, murmuring, "Is this really what you want?"

She managed to nod as his face drew close to hers, and then she was drowning in a kiss the like of which she had never known. His tongue probed and teased, and her lips opened to welcome it in. Then he was biting at her neck, her earlobes, her collarbone. She thought her knees might collapse beneath her, and threw her arms about his neck tightly to hold herself upright.

Then they were falling onto the divan, and Ilosovic began undoing her gown, moving with care but also astonishing rapidity, and soon her robes were gleaming faintly against the marble floor. He removed his own garments with the same haste as she watched from her prone position, and leaned back over her, his dark waves of hair brushing her shoulders. She could not help but gasp as he gripped her wrists again and pinned her to the divan, exploring her body with his eyes, and then with his mouth. He released her wrists as he drove into her, and she plunged one hand into his hair, the other gripping his shoulder so tightly that the half-moon marks of her nails were still visible hours later.

Shivers rippled through her body, emanating from every spot where they touched. Their bodies grew slick with perspiration, and Casiphia wondered if she would stop breathing before they reached climax. And then, with an explosion of breath, she realized that, in fact, she had.

In a tangle of limbs, they slumped, spent, to the divan. Casiphia traced the line of Stayne's scars gently down the side of his face, softly touching his heart-shaped eye patch, looking steadily into his remaining eye. They stayed like this, soundlessly, until sleep overcame them, and they slipped into interior worlds where the other could not follow.

It was late afternoon when the harsh toll of a bell awoke them, thick golden sunlight sprawling across the floor, dust motes spiraling lazily in its beams. Stayne was instantly awake, hastily assembling his garments and weaponry while Casiphia blinked in astonishment at her surroundings. So it hadn't been a dream…

"It is dangerous for either of us to be caught here," he said, buckling his scabbard about his waist. "Go, go, you must. I will make sure the drawbridge is open." As he flung the French doors open wide and began to push Casiphia through, he reached for her once more and crushed a kiss upon her lips. "Now run!"

And run she did, skirting the rosebushes and topiaries, boots pounding against the cobblestones. So busy was her mind with the unexpected events of the afternoon that she barely noticed the thorn that caught at her forearm, or the spot of blood suddenly blooming crimson across the white satin of her skirts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

**Trysting**

_Wine comes in at the mouth_

_And love comes in at the eye;_

_That's all we shall know for truth_

_Before we grow old and die._

_I lift the glass to my mouth,_

_I look at you, and sigh._

_~William Butler Yeats_

I.

Casiphia rode up to the ruins outside Turgey Wood with her head bowed to hide the small smile that she couldn't quell as she saw Stayne watching her from the top of the long flight of stairs that curved up the left side of the building. She was more practically dressed for today's adventure, white still, but linen rather than silk or satin and with a divided riding skirt, and her hair in a long braid down her back, hooded in an old green cloak that had belonged to her father. This would be the first time she had seen Ilosovic since their encounter at the Red Queen's castle.

Not that they hadn't communicated. As much as she regretted relying on Bayard the hound to transmit the letters she wrote to the Knave, he was the only messenger she truly trusted. He was faithful to the White Queen and terrified of the Red, and between the two, she and Stayne knew that their communications would be safe.

Brief, those were, but tender. And they had determined that the ruins would be the safest place for them to meet, safely away from all those who would prevent whatever sort of association this would turn out to be.

As Casiphia dismounted and suggested to her horse that she remain quietly by the tumbled blocks at the foot of the ruins with Stayne's horse (Quill nodded her head in agreement), the Knave walked down the steps to greet her.

"No problem getting away?" he said.

"No one said a thing. Really, I think I could do with someone looking after me, but I'm so unpleasant when anyone tries, that no one dares," she said with a wry smile.

"A sentiment I understand," Stayne said, offering her his arm.

"Somehow I believe that," Casiphia replied with a twinkle, taking it.

The walls were broken away from the foundation, for the most part, leaving only some broken pillars and a splendid view of the surrounding terrain. Up the stairs they went, and Stayne led her to the back of the old palace, where the Crimson Sea spread out below and beyond in a misty shimmer. It was a warm day, lit with diffused sunlight, and a few rooks flying overhead were the only other living things in sight.

"Milady," he said archly, showing her to the embroidered carpet he had laid down for their picnic. "Would you like a warm pig belly for your aching feet?"

"No, thank you, I most certainly would not," she said, arranging her garments neatly about her and pulling the strap of her shoulder bag over her head. "However, I've brought us something." This turned out to be wine, decanted into a green bottle. "Elderflower wine, from the palace gardens. My apologies that we will have to drink from the bottle--we can't spare any crockery right now."

"That will be a perfect accompaniment to these," the Knave said with a sideways look. From his own satchel he drew a packet of pastries, a bit squashed from the trip but still perfectly serviceable.

"Are those…they are! Tarts!" Casiphia exclaimed. "However did you…I see why they call you a Knave!"

"My reputation occasionally proves itself useful," Stayne replied.

No sooner had Casiphia taken a bite of tart--strawberry and lemon, and baked to perfection--than there was a puff in the air and a grin, followed by a large and furry face. "My, my, what have we here?"

Casiphia started and threw a hand against her pounding heart. "Is there nowhere safe from you?"

"Wh, my dear," said the Cheshire Cat, turning lazily over on his back in the air to regard her. "I'm not a threat. You don't need to be safe from me. I don't follow politics, after all, and I don't care what company either one of you may seek.

"Although, if you were feeling insecure about that, I could be bribed with, oh, a tart."

Casiphia thrust a tart at the Cat, who took a delicate bite and twitched his whiskers at her. And then he and tart disappeared, or at least became invisible.

"Why is it that things that should be only amusing are yet so threatening?" Casiphia asked Stayne.

"The times we live in, milady. Cheers." And he toasted to her with the wine bottle, and a crooked smile.

II.

_All in green went my love riding_

_on a great horse of gold_

_into the silver dawn._

_four lean hounds crouched low and smiling_

_my heart fell dead before._

_~e.e. cummings_

This meeting was different in nearly every way from the last.

Quillian Day dawned windy, with clouds scudding swiftly past the sun, striating the earth with rapidly alternating shadows and light. The sea was turbulent beyond the cliffs, and the daylight itself seemed oddly tinged. Casiphia had galloped madly to her rendezvous with Stayne after receiving a cryptic message from him, as well as an apology from Bayard that he would no longer be returning to the Red Castle. And Stayne himself was stomping about angrily, his demeanor as turbulent as the clouds overhead and his scowl as dark as thunder.

"What? What could you have done that could be so terrible?" she said, grasping his arm to stop him from pacing, holding her ground nervously as he fixed her with his single dark eye.

He took a deep breath and began. "A new person came to the castle--a woman of great size. The Queen was quite taken with her, and I thought that perhaps the Resistance would find her of interest. So I thought I would try to charm her and sound her out as to where she stands on the the divide between the Queens, only to repel her utterly. The Queen learned of this somehow--I have my suspicions as to how--and lost her temper, and I panicked and claimed Unlawful Seduction. And then, on top of this, the woman turned out to be Alice."

"_The_ Alice?" gaped Casiphia.

"The one and only." Stayne pulled away from her and began pacing again, pulling off his gauntlets and throwing them to the ground in anger. "Stupid, stupid! Now Alice believes I'm a degenerate, the Queen isn't convinced she can trust me, and I now know for certain that her courtiers will throw me to the wolves given the chance. And with Alice back, there is sure to be imminent war." His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword as he thought of the need to defend himself.

"Ilosovic, shh," Casiphia said, stepping in front of him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "As you have said, these are confusing times. Motivations are complicated, and everyone is more than a bit mad. Surely your mistakes won't be as catastrophic as you believe."

"I wish I could believe that," he muttered. "At least you are still giving me a chance."

"And I will continue to do so. I will do whatever I can to see that others treat you fairly. And I will take care of you as best I am able," she added with a smile. "Perhaps someday you can do the same for me."

That was a meeting that culminated with a fervent kiss, and with the Knave sweeping the Lady in Waiting into his arms and finding a sheltered corner inside the palace ruins, where he laid her down upon his embroidered cloak. They came together in fierce communion, heedless of the marks and bruises they left upon each other's bodies, needing comfort that transcending manners and gentleness. And they gripped each tightly afterwards, wishing they could remain in their hideout, wishing they could avoid politics and war and all the frenzy that inevitably awaited them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Trust**

_For winter's rains and ruins are over,_

_And all the season of snows and sins;_

_The days dividing lover and lover,_

_The light that loses, the night that wins;_

_And time remembered is grief forgotten,_

_And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,_

_And in green underwood and cover_

_Blossom by blossom the spring begins._

_~Algernon Charles Swinburne_

Frabjous Day arrived, and early in the morning the courtiers of the White Court gathered restlessly in the throne room, waiting to hear the results of Alice's battle with the Jabberwock and the war between the Queens' forces. They paced and murmured amongst themselves for hours, drinking multitudinous cups of tea until their nerves were so jangled they were forced to switch to wine. Casiphia in particular waited anxiously for news.

Finally word reached the palace that Mirana's forces had triumphed, and the Red Queen's guards had abandoned her and thrown their lot in with the White Soldiers. The Jabberwock had been slain, Alice had prevailed, and the Red Queen had been banished.

And Ilosovic Stayne had been exiled with her.

Casiphia, horrified, excused herself from the crowd gathered at the castle. She paced her chambers, concocting and discarding ideas to save the Knight, none of which were practical or safe or had any chance of success. But she did think of one plan that might succeed.

That night when the Queen returned, Casiphia sent a message via a page requesting a formal audience. The answer that was returned said that she was to meet the Queen in her receiving room in an hour.

As Casiphia dressed for her audience with the Queen, carefully adjusting the layers of satin and brocade that made up her gown, and making sure the white ringlets of her wig were neat and not about to fall into her eyes, she wondered if this course of action had any real chance of success. She had been the best lady-in-waiting she knew how to be over the years, keeping Mirana's confidences and providing her with companionship, but perhaps all that would be outweighed by her recent restlessness and her tendency to be difficult to find. She had organized the books in the library by subject, which might count for something, but perhaps it would have been better if she had made more progress in her potions work.

Well, none of that could be helped now. Casiphia gathered her heavy skirts and made her way to the small room where Mirana took petitioners. There the Queen sat, lovely and radiant in her crown, looking more relaxed than she had in many a day. Casiphia hoped for this to be a good sign. Dropping to her knees before the Queen, she took a deep breath and began.

"Your Majesty, I am here to beg pardon for Ilosovic Stayne."

The Queen raised one eyebrow at this, but was silent.

"Is it not in your nature and in your training to be compassionate? If I were to tell you what I've learned of his character, might that make a difference in his sentence?"

"Please explain further, Casiphia," the White Queen said. And so Casiphia did, telling the story from her foray into the Red Queen's territory to what Stayne had told her of his relationship with the Red Queen and with the resistance. "Many people did reprehensible things as they waited for their champion to return. It isn't fair that he be the single one punished for doing so.

"His single greatest crime has been unwarranted loyalty. And he was the last remaining friend that your sister had."

"That is a good deal of information I did not have," said the White Queen. "Ilosovic Stayne is very lucky to have met you and to have you on his side. I may not owe him a kindness, but perhaps I do owe you one."

"Does that mean--?" Casiphia said, scarcely daring to believe.

"I will send for him to be returned here. On several conditions."

Apprehension flickered across Casiphia's face, but she remained silent and let Mirana continue.

"First, you will be responsible for his actions. I will find it hard to trust his completely for some time, I am sure, and I want to know that someone I do trust is watching him.

"Also, I am thinking that since you find it so hard to keep close to the palace, you might like to patrol Underland for me, perhaps once a month? And you can take your paramour with you, since he is as familiar with these lands as anyone I know. And this leads to the second condition: You must report to me anything unusual you might find. As a courtier, you will have a better idea of what I find suspicious than a regular guard.

"Are these terms acceptable?"

"Yes, yes, My Queen, they are," said Casiphia, sweeping a deep curtsey, her face radiant with her smile. "I am certain that this will all work out for the best.

"But…may I ask one more favor?"

"Oh, Casiphia, do not take advantage," sighed the Queen. "But tell me what you would like."

"Could you show a bit of mercy to your sister? Maybe put a end date on her time of exile? And you've told me yourself that you are worried about her, and that perhaps she can't help how she acts--you can command her to see a doctor now and she cannot refuse. Would this not be in keeping with the virtues you have taught your court?"

"I suppose you are right," said the Queen. "Although I may make it a very long exile indeed if she turns out to be healthy and merely an evil person."

"No one could ask more," Casiphia said. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will leave now without asking any further boons."

"Yes, you do that. Oh, my dear," said the Queen, embracing Casiphia gently. "Come to the overlook at early morning tomorrow and we will see what we will see."

The overlook was one of the most beautiful locations in the palace, with its curved marble terrace and the vast marble chess knights keeping sentinel. This morning it was misty and quiet, the waterfalls tumbling down the green hills beyond hushed by the distance. Casiphia stood watching over the valley, waiting, holding still until thought she heard footfalls behind her.

Which she had. It was indeed her love, placing his hands upon her shoulders to turn her around to look at him. He was garbed in white and black, looking not too much worse for wear--but it was the mingling of emotions in his expression that truly drew her attention.

"Ilosovic Stayne," she said, reaching up to take his hands.

"I do prefer how that sounds from your lips, milady."

"This court will be a change for you," she said. "But I see you can still be my black knight."

"It has been a long time since I wore anyone's colors but Iracebeth's," Ilosovic said. "But thus far I appreciate the contrast."

"You realize I am responsible for you now," she said.

"And I will do my best not to disappoint you," he replied. "Milady, I thank you again for for not judging me without giving me a chance to speak my piece. Not many would have done the same."

"That would be neither fair nor just," Casiphia responded.

"I think this was more than I deserve," he said.

"I disagree," Casiphia said. "And you'll learn better than to argue with me."

"Might be fun," Ilosovic said with his crooked smile.

"First," she said, sliding a hand along the side of his neck, "Let's work on Lawful Seduction."


End file.
